— An Anonymous Woman On Coming To Terms With Being A Lesbian In The 1950’s-60’s, From An Interview

i love studying. i love writing. i love reading. i love learning languages. i love doing mathematics. i love wandering over some particular sum and trying to come up with formulas to solve it. i love physics. i love biology. i love chemistry. i love history. i love literature. i love learning.

not to achieve the perfect grades ever. but it just amazes me that there's so much to know and learn and write and read about in the universe. my curiosity wouldn't get enough of it.

hoodie season i’ve missed you so much

“My capital of silk, you are so soft, but its hard, this heart, this art, this dark…to understand…but if you go the land…of the thousand dances…we might just have a million and one chances.”

—

“I love the handful of the earth you are. Because of its meadows, vast as a planet, I have no other star. You are my replica of the multiplying universe. Your wide eyes are the only light I know from extinguished constellations; your skin throbs like the streak of a meteor through rain. Your hips were that much of the moon for me; your deep mouth and its delights, that much sun; your heart, fiery with its long red rays, was that much ardent light, like honey in the shade. So I pass across your burning form, kissing you—compact and planetary, my dove, my globe.”

— Pablo Neruda, “XVI,” transl. Stephen Tapscott, from One Hundred Love Sonnets, The Poetry of Pablo Neruda, ed. Ilan Stavans (Farrar, Straus, and Giroux, 2003)

WHEN ALL MY FAVORITE CHARACTERS IN A BOOK ARE KILLED OFF

I dream of...

I dream of the empty tunnels within the earth,

where once worms lived but now only their corpses lay in the poisoned dirt. 

I dream that the sick earth gives away beneath our feet, that mankind slips down passing our equally sickened history as we go. 

I dream there are trees forever preserved in plastic, bones of fish that twist in deformation, the hornless rhinos mouths are still wide in pain and in their blank eye sockets remains fear, small bones lay next to big ones. 

 Finally, we reach our ancestors alongside the mammoths they slew,

 the only genuinely recognizable corpses. 

I dream that we never hit the end, our bodies fall upwards as we pass our mistakes, our triumphs are few and far between. 

Then I wake up. 

I stand on the dirt that I dreamt of, waiting for the human race’s sins to pull me down. 

I feel nothing but the worms digging beneath my feet, I do not feel the waxy plastic or the sharp bones of fish,

but it is then I realize I’m still dreaming.